Monday

You know the book is going to be one big cliché when the opening line is: “It's as hot as hell in Martiro, but the papers on the porch are icy with the news.” Start rolling your eyes now…

I had a really difficult time with this book. It appears that D.B.C. Pierre watched and re-watched every single episode of Jerry Springer to come up with the colorful array of characters in Vernon God Little. All the women are obese and nobody is very smart. People say thing like, “Ol’ Keeters down tha road done made-up summa that thar stuff-” and so on. It just seemed to me that the author was writing directly from a stereotype and was deliberately trying to be offensive 90% of the time. The difference between good offensive (ie. Henry Miller) and bad offensive (i.e. this book) is how much of what’s being written is truthful as opposed to an author faking/forcing it. I wasn’t too impressed.

Having said that, the tone of the novel changed dramatically half-way through the story: It looks as though Vernon Gregory Little is the one who’s going to be taking all the heat for a recent shooting-spree at his school in Texas. Vernon flees to Mexico and by the time he’s back home, nearly all of southern Texas’ murders have been blamed on him.

While Vernon was in Mexico, story mellowed out a little and Pierre took his time to describe the country in wonderful detail. And, back home, when Vernon’s in jail and on trial, his reflections are more profound. All of this was way better reading than the white-trash/empty scenario that is the first-half of Vernon God Little.

If you’ve got nothing else to read, by all means, pick this book up (just wait until paperback).

Wednesday

Amy who? Fluid what?

These times they are a-changin’. With the rise and fall of YPR [sob], I’ve decided to re-do my blog. The design is fundamentally the same but the colors are softer. I was originally going to die my hair blond and move to Florida to fulfill this pressing need for change. Then I realized no one knows what I look like anyway, might as well just beat the dust out of FluidMotion.

Barbara’s all hell-bent on making chicken burgers tonight. Mmm, yummy I think. She makes out a list of things we need to get: fresh mint and cilantro, buns and ground chicken.

“Ground chicken?” I ask. “Are you insane? Nobody sells ground chicken. Why don’t you make the burger with a filet of chicken, instead?”

Barbara looks helplessly from her cookbook, to the small piece of paper she was writing on, to me. “Well… that’s what the recipe calls for.” She checks the book again. “See, ground chicken.”

I blow air out of my mouth. “Yeah, well, good luck. Come on, let’s go to the store. Let’s go and get some ground chicken.” I laugh under my breath.

We drive over. First, we hit the produce department. Barbara starts filling up a clear plastic bag with mint.

“Whoa, take it easy there.”

“Hmn?” she asks, still grabbing fistfuls of mint.

“Dude, how much mint do you need for this recipe?”

She ignores me and grabs a bundle of cilantro. Before shoving it into a plastic bag as well, she presses her face into it and inhales deeply.

“Ahhh,” she sighs. “I think if the color ‘green’ were a smell, it would smell like cilantro.”

“… Okay.”

“I mean,” she looks up at the store’s ceiling, trying to find the right words. “Cilantro smells like the color green.”

“Hey listen, did you smoke a joint on the way over here that I didn’t see?”

We next move to the meat department. As soon as we get there, a young dude on the other side of the counter asks what he can get us. I’m trying to stifle my snickers has Barbara asks-

“Yes. Could I please have one pound of ground chicken?” The kid moves but then stops once he fully digests what she’s just said.

“Ground chicken?” he asks.

I jump in. “Don’t be stupid, Barbara. Ground chicken.” I roll my eyes and wink at the young butcher to let him know my sister’s simple-minded and nothing she says should be taken seriously. Then I tilt my head to the side and (just to fuck with him) ask “Do you have any quail?”

“I’m just kidding,” I wave my hand. “But we would like a pound of ground turkey.” Barbara has her face pressed to the meat display’s glass, searching in vain for ground chicken.

“Ground turkey,” the kid breathes, relieved. “Sure.” He moves to the tray where the ground turkey is supposed to be and sees that it’s empty. “Uh… we- we’re all out of ground turkey. But there’s some pre-packaged in the refrigerator around the corner.”

I thank him and drag Barbara away. We select a package of lean ground turkey. Barbara makes for the bread while I head for the beer.

Beer. Beer. What kind of beer to get. I made a major mistake a couple weeks ago. I got an Otter Creek variety pack just because it said one of the varieties was a ‘current seasonal.’ Now, I thought the box said it came with a ‘currant seasonal’ and I’m thinking: Mmmmmmm, I LOVE currant flavored beer. So I get home, start transferring the bottles from the box to the fridge and I’m reading the labels as I go: Old Man Ale… Black 47 Stout…Amber Ale… Amber Ale… IPA… wait. I thought this box only came with four varieties. Amber Ale, Old Man Ale, IPA, IPA… finally, the box is empty and I want my money back. I didn’t see any ‘currant’ flavored ‘seasonal’ beer. This is an outrage! This is- I take another look at the box and see that I’ve read it wrong. Ugh! I’m so STUpid!

Now I’ve got it in my head that I want a currant flavored beer. Since the coop doesn’t seem to have that, I pick up a six-pack of Pete’s Wicked Strawberry Blond. This beer makes me feel like high-schooler, but whatever.

I find Barbara over by the cheese. “No more blue cheese!” I scream.

Shoppers scatter as I stomp towards her. I am so sick of her blue cheese fetish. I recently told her that blue cheese on a cracker drizzled with a little bit of honey was meant to be really nice. Now, it’s all she wants to eat. I don’t mind a mild blue cheese but the stuff she gets snaps your head back. She grabs a wedge and we head for the check-out isles.

A small white boy with the largest afro I’ve ever seen starts lazily dragging our items across the scanner. He asks for my ID when he gets to the beer and as he’s typing it into the register, this isle’s bag boy says to him, “Hey, Mark. My dad just bought a new jet.”

I frown a little and turn my head to look at Mark, who looks at the bag boy and just shakes his head with a slight smile. I smile as well and turn back to the bag boy.

He then says, “Mumble jumble something limo.”

He stares at me, expectantly, grinning like an idiot. I look from him to Mark and back again. It crosses my mind that this kid might be mildly retarded.

He talks to me some more, rapidly and quietly, but I can only make out 30% of that he’s saying as Barbara and Mark are busy taking care of the money transfer. The gist of what he told me, though, is that he’s not mentally challenged and that he and Mark like to mess around with the really rich people that come into the coop to shop. Hanover is littered with wealthy, PhD, neurosurgeon snobs. Bag Boy talks about his daddy’s new Lear jet (lie), Mark talks about his weekend trip to the Azores (another lie) and the rich people, as most rich people will, start bragging about their yachts, Bentleys and gardeners. I believe Bag Boy told me all this because I look poor enough to find it funny as well.

I smile, grab our bags and make for the exit as Barbara’s asking, “What were you and that kid talking about?”

Following in Haypenny's footsteps, YPR is shutting it's doors. I can only presume they're not kidding (because they said they're not).

How do I, personally, feel about this? You ever know you've been dumped when you go to your boyfriend/girlfriend's house, see they've moved all their shit out and left no forwarding address? That's how I feel. You ever talk to someone and a couple days later learn they've been committed to the psychiatric ward of a hospital? And you're thinking, "Man, I didn't see any sign that they were about to snap..." That's how I feel. You ever catch a 89mph curve-ball to the nuts? That's- Well, I can't say as I know what that feels like... but I can imagine and that's how I feel.

Damn. Now I have to find another high-profile (higher profile than this blog, anyway) place to pawn my writing off on. Working my way up to the New Yorker, baby.

Did you hear about the guy who found a toe-nail in his Mexican rice? True story.

I'm never going to eat out again. Not that I'm a rude tight-wad when I'm out, but it sounds like you don't know what's going to set off some of these servers. You know, I have something on my mind and forget to smile. Then they go pee in my pasta. [Shudder] I'll stick to cooking gourmet meals at home. That's what Food Network is for.

The only food service experience I've had was at a little cafe around here. I liked the job fine except for:

(a) The nasty, sweet coffee stench that got into your clothes, hair and skin. Ugh, I can actually smell it now just thinking about it.

(b) The boss/owner/baker. Total perv.

I never did anything gross to people's food at work because there simply wasn't any time to. We were so busy with all the coffee, tea, pasteries, desserts, shakes, etc. Although, I will say that there's a huge nitrous tank at the cafe (for the wipped cream) and I heard that people used to take whippits during the night shift.

Friday

One time I was holding a hot cup of coffee when my dog tried to jump on me. This caused me to spill the coffee all over him. He yelped, so I ran to get a paper towel and wipe him up. I didn't want the coffee to go to waste (I was tired) so I licked the paper towel and some of the coffee of the dog's back. I still can't believe I did that, wow I musta been tired..

Thursday

Left-wing freak show

Jesus, I don't know if you've seen this, but I'm just... I... I can't even believe-

This misconception about Vermonters is that we're all of those things mentioned. No. Those are all the New Yorkers that move UP here and buy a volvo, read the NY Times, guzzle their lattes, etc. REAL Vermonters are deer-hunting, farm-living, maple syrup-making, organic-eating, outdoor-loving independant hippies.

Gregory Maguire's Wickedhas been brought to stage in NYC. Awesome. After reading the book, I would try to explain how it really was in Oz: "You don't understand, man. The ruby slippers were not for Glinda to give away. They didn't belong to her. And Elphaba was allergic to water. That's why she melted when that stupid Dorothy poured it all over her."

Wednesday

The Midnight Disease

Just heard about this book on the Diane Rehm show. Sounds very interesting. I may have to break my "No buying hardcover books! There are plenty of other paperback books you can read while you wait for it to come out in paperback two years from now!" rule.

Speaking of which, I'd like a show of hands... Who else thinks The Lovely Bones has been in hardcover for, like, EVER? I was in a bookstore LAST YEAR and a woman was asking about the paperback.

Oracle CEO marries romance novelist. Is this the stuff romance novels are made of, or what? And to top of off, the new bride (Melanie Craft) is really, really pretty. (Check out the rock on her finger. I've seen ice cubes smaller than that.) [sigh] I would say "happily ever after" if this wasn't his fourth trip down the isle...

Tuesday

Cooking

This year I have a "Joy of Cooking" page-a-day desk calendar. So far, it’s been all right. I use the actual cookbook a lot at home because it covers the basics and techniques of cooking really well. But I’m not so sure about these tid-bits of advice/info I’m reading everyday. Yesterday’s was “Ideas for Tea Sandwiches”, one of which had caviar as a main ingredient. PPppbt. How about egg salad or peanut butter and jelly? That’s more my style.

So today’s lesson is about Stone Crabs. Here’s what interested me most: “When this crab is caught, one claw is snapped off, and the crab is returned to the water (it’s illegal to take whole stone crabs), where it will grow another claw.” And here I am thinking, hey man, just because they can grow their claws back, that doesn’t mean you should rip them off and toss the crabs back. I almost think it’d be more humane to kill the whole crab rather than dismembering it. But apparently, that’s illegal. Here’s something else to add to my list:

Considering the weather outside is colder than a witch’s tit, I’m trapped indoors succumbing to cabin fever. I’ve done everything I can to not be bored: put garish makeup on all over my face (“De-gorgeous dahling.”), dressed my cats up in baby clothes (“Stop meowing! It’ll be over in a second.”), pieced together over 45 puzzles and still the pictures on the walls are talking to me. I’ve decided to medicate myself with the contents of a Sam Adam’s Winter Classics box. This magical box contains 12 bottles of 6 different varieties of beer (two of which are only available in this pack: Cranberry Lambic and Old Fezziwig).

Beer 1: Cranberry Lambic

I have no idea what ‘lambic’ means but this beer is mildly gross. It tastes like someone mixed a glass of red wine into a glass of lager, shook it up, let it set (to get most of the fizz out) and bottled it. Yech. The only redeeming factor is that when you belch, you get a fruity taste in your mouth (as opposed to the usual shitty regurgitated hops flavor).

Around the neck of the bottle, it says, “Our version of a traditional Belgian lambic is brewed with native American cranberries, a unique top-fermenting yeast, and a touch of maple syrup. This is a special brew for the holidays. Cheers!” Maple syrup? What marketing genus was sitting around thinking, “Yo, we should brew a beer with cranberries and maple syrup in it.” I realize that since this is The Boston Brew Company and since Samuel Adams is an American patriot, they want to brew a New England beer, but c’mon man. Next they’re going to brew a Lobster Lager and Clam Chowder Cream Ale.

So what is a ‘lambic’ exactly? According to The Ultimate Encyclopedia of Wine, Beer, Spirits and Liqueurs: The Definitive Reference Guide to Alcohol-Based Drinks (Walton & Glover), “Lambic brewers use at least 30% unmalted wheat in order to produce a milky wort from the mash.” A milky what from the who? “The wheat brew used to produce lambic beer is left exposed to the air to allow spontaneous fermentation to happen from the wild yeasts in the atmosphere.” Wild yeasts in the atmosphere? Do they mean ‘the bacteria floating all around us’? That’s what it sounds like. “This beer is only produced in the cooler months, as the wild yeasts-“ Bacteria. “-would be too unpredictable in the summer. The result us a unique, tart, sour beer,-“ Got that right. “-probably similar to the ales made in ancient times. The taste is almost like a flat, acidic cider, which attacks the tongue and sucks in the cheeks.” Yes, I’d say my tongue was under siege and I swallowed my cheeks about 5 sips ago. Simply put: “The term lambic indicates a Belgian wheat beer that is spontaneously fermented by wild, airborne yeast.”

EBT Rating: *****-----. It’s put me in a good mood. It’s either the cabin fever or the beer but I’ve got “The Humpty Dance” running through my head now. The humpty dance- is your chance- to do the hump-

Beer 2: Cream Stout

Silly me, thinking this Cream Stout might taste like Cream Soda. I don’t particularly like the dark Porters and Stouts because they taste like burnt toast scrapings mixed with seltzer water. This Cream Stout (which is described as a “Special Stout” on the label) is no different. “Smooth and rich, Samuel Adams Cream Stout is brewed with extra portions of roasted chocolate malt, unmalted barley, and hand-selected English hops. Tradition has it that ale drinkers of Samuel Adams’ day considered all other stouts to be merely milk. This was the cream. Cheers!” I don’t know. It has such a grainy taste, I feel like there should be something to chew on each time I take a sip.

In the book, under ‘Stout, it says, “this dry black brew is made with a proportion of dark roasted barley in the mash and is heavily hopped to give it’s distinctive taste. Draught stout tends to be much creamier and smoother than the more distinctive bottled beer, because it uses nitrogen gas in its dispenser.” And get this, the beer I’m drinking right at this very moment is actually mentioned in the book under ‘Milk or Sweet Stout’: “This is a much weaker and smoother bottled English stout, originally called Milk Stout because of the use of lactose… The Boston Beer Company in America produces a Samuel Adams Cream Stout.” How ‘bout that? I guess it can’t be too bad if it’s mentioned in a book, right?

The label on the bottle is nice. It’s Sammy holding up his tankard in salute in front of an old-tyme illustration of a bar scene. I like this label better than the lambic one, which showed Sam up to his waist in a basket of wheat fronds and cranberries the size of his head.

Blech, I can’t even image someone who would actually enjoy drinking stout. I doubt even a chronic alcoholic would want to get wasted on this because it’s (a) so heavy and (b) extremely hard to get down. And what’s up with what I read earlier about the chocolate malt? I don’t taste no kind of chocolate goodness in this.

A lot of the guys from work like drinking dark, dark beer like this and they’re all of those mountain biking, kayaking, crunchy types of hippies. So maybe this is a hippie beer… but I don’t think so.

EBT Rating: **--------. Dude, I just don’t like these wicked dark beers. And it only got two stars because it was in a book.

Beer 3: Sam Adams Light

Just like regular Samuel Adams, only lighter. “Sam Adams Light has a taste unlike any other light beer. It’s the only light beer made from two-row malt and 100% noble hops.” I like reading things like that, where they say “it’s the only…” because you know it won’t be for long. I just want to go out and make light beer from two-row malt and 100% noble hops just so they can’t say they’re the “only” anymore. I mean, ‘cause how are they going to market the beer then? “It’s unlike any other light beer. Uh, except for that other light beer just like one BUT STILL, it’s unlike all the other ones… Cheers.”

I like this. It’s light colored, light tasting, low in calories. The book says that for light beers, more of the sugar is turned to alcohol in the brewing process to produce a lower-calorie beer. This beer is pretty bland, though. They should make a light fruity favored beer so that there aren’t that many calories but still a lot of flavors.

I wonder about those new Low-Carb beers for those people on the Atkin’s diet but still want to get tanked. I wonder what those beers taste like. If you think about it, beer is made with malt and hops. There really is no way of getting around the carbs. And speaking of ruining the whole idea of beer; what’s with NON-alcoholic beer? Who, specifically, is that beer meant to be consumed by? Recovering alcoholics? No, I think they should stay away from anything having to do with beer. Children? Yeah, if you want to train them to be the future boozers of America. Women? Please. That’s just a slap in the face. People who simply “enjoy the taste of beer” but don’t want to get wasted? Those people should just drink water. They’re missing the whole point.

[Buuuuurp] This beer is kind of like water. Not much flavor going on. It’s the kind of beer you’d use for Beer Pong. Whoa, on the label is says that this beer should be consumed by February 2004. That’s, like, next month. I thought beer was supposed to last longer than that. What happens when beer goes bad? Does the alcohol go away? Is it undrinkable? Does it [gasp] explode? Oh hey, the nutritional facts are on the bottle here as well. Calories: 124 (Good, I can burn that off just playing with my cats.) Carbohydrates: 9.7g (Is that a lot or a little? I honestly don’t know.) Protein: 1.4g (Maybe I’ll start making shakes with beer and silken tofu to get more protein. I love protein. Dude, I love steaks but with the whole mad cow thing, I don’t know. I’ve actually gone vegetarian since I heard about it and started reading more. I mean, I’m not vegetarian vegetarian. I’m getting my meat from this place around here that raises its own beef. I’m not buying any more grocery store meats. I only want farm fresh, local meats. Uh… but I digress…) Fat: 0.0g. Yeah baby, that’s what I like to see. Fat-free beer. All right. You can drink as much as you want and not get fat. Except for the beer-gut but that’s from carbs. All the more reason to stick with watery light beer.

EBT Rating: *****-----. Half the calories, half the rating. Sorry, that’s the way it goes. … I’m getting so buzzed.

Beer 4: Old Fezziwig Ale

Fuzzy wuzzy was a bear, fuzzy wuzzy had no hair. Fuzzy wuzzy. Was he fuzzy? Ha ha ha, you remember that? I haven’t heard that in ages. This beer makes me think of it for some reason. Oh, maybe because it’s called Fuzzy-wig. Or Fezzi-wig. Hey, I knew someone in college with the last name Fezzi. I think it was spelled Fezzi. Or Fezy. Last I heard, he opened up a cyber-café down in western Massachusetts. I wonder how he’s doing…

“Old Fezziwig Ale is in the tradition of special seasoned beers for the winter holidays, and takes its name from the festive character in Charles Dickens A Christmas Carol. This is a hearty, rich, brownish-red ale that gets its character from large amounts of specialty malts. These roasted caramel and chocolate malts give it a very full body and a smooth taste that’s them spiced with a touch on cinnamon, ginger and orange. Happy Holidays!” Whoa, did they get Dickens to write that description? It’s like the description that would never end.

It’s good to know that the name is taken from A Christmas Carol. I was looking at the picture on the label, like “What the-? Who’s that old-timer? Samuel Adams’ grandfather?” It must be Ebenezer Scrooge. It’s a bunch of 18th century people dancing and standing around laughing (probably because they’re had too much spiked nog). The guys have those horrific sideburns that come all the way down to their mouths. [Shudder] The only female in the image is wearing a big cream-colored dress. One of those big old-fashioned dresses. She looks like she’s totally hot. I don’t know why she’s dancing with that old guy. [Belch] The label is framed by sticks with holly leaves and berries entwined around them. It’s all very nice but I can’t help thinking, ‘Where the hell was this beer four weeks ago, when it really was the holiday season? I didn’t see this case until this afternoon.” Now I realize my holiday season was just a sham this year.

I can taste all the different flavors and spices in this. It’s pretty good. Maybe a little too complex. I think they should have not used the caramel and chocolate malts or the cinnamon. A ginger and orange beer would have rocked. How good would that have been? Seriously. Wait a minute. You remember how I complained a little while ago about not being able to taste any chocolate from the chocolate malt? Maybe “chocolate” only refers to the color. I think chocolate and caramel refer to the dark and medium-light color of the malt itself. I feel so stupid now.

I seriously need to get something to eat or else I’m going to vomit. Or, I need to go to a dance club and shake my moneymaker. I suddenly feel like getting buck wild.

EBT Rating: ******----. It’s getting a higher rating than I’d like to give specifically for its rarity index. You can’t by this stuff in a six-pack. Even if I could, I probably wouldn’t. (And I’d only have given it 3 stars.)

Beer 5: Samuel Adams

For real, I’m going to die if I don’t get something to eat. Barbara’s cooking Catfish Gumbo tonight and she’s just standing at the stove, stirring it, like, “La la la la la, I’m just going to stir this and let you smell it just to tease you. It still needs about 400 hours to cook.” Duuuuude, I’ll be dead by then. I mean it.

So this beer is the original. What can I tell you about it? I bet it’ll go good with Catfish Gumbo.

- - - -

Update: Amy quietly passed out shortly after finishing her gumbo. She only took two sips of the Samuel Adams before gagging and pouring it down the kitchen sink. She didn’t get to the Winter Brew (Beer 6) at all. She’s had that beer before, anyway. It wasn’t anything special. In fact, she thought it was kind of crappy. Good night.
-xoxo Griffith the Cat

Friday

Movie Update

I’ve joined Netflix. I thought it would be best considering the ALWAYS return my movies late to the rental place here. I’m always getting a pre-recorded message on my phone at home: [scary deep voice] “HEL-LO! YOU have and OVERDUE rental!!...” Plus, they never really have any of the obscure films I like to watch. Netflix is surprisingly fast. I joined on a Monday and the first three movies were in my mailbox by Wednesday. Here's what I've rented so far…

1. Brazil: I confess. I didn’t watch this all the way through to the end. It had the 1984 feel to it but it was too weird for me. Which means it’s pretty weird. I thought the whole thing was uneven, I didn’t really care about any of the characters and I especially didn’t like seeing Michael Palin in a mean, torturer role. Maybe I just wasn’t in the right mood for it (i.e. I wasn’t high).

2. Winged Migration: This documentary was great. I have no idea how the director got so many up-close, up-in-the-sky shots of these birds migrating. For a while, I was like, “No. Some of these birds have to be robots. They look too perfect.” But there were no special effects used. It was amazing. There was practically no narration yet I was laughing at some parts and crying at others. Really, really good.

Update: I saw “The Making of” for Winged Migration. The people making the film imprinted some of the birds onto humans and got them used to the sounds of motors/fans. Then the camara man just flew in the sky with them. Is that fucking wild or what?

3. Kiki’s Delivery Service: I really like Hayao Miyazaki’s most recent films (Princess Mononoke and Spirited Away) because they’re fantasy storied based on Japanese lore and traditions. This movie was just about a 13-year-old witch named Kiki who moves to the city for a year away from home. People are, apparently, used to seeing girls riding around on broomsticks and don’t think it’s too odd to see her zooming around hither and yon. She doesn’t have any talent other than delivering parcels for people. Sad, that. She eventually realized what a sham her existence is and loses her ability to fly (because she loses her self-confidence). Yadda yadda, everything’s all right in the end.

I’m looking forward to the English dub release for Nausicaa (written and directed by Miyazaki) and the premier of Howl’s Moving Castle (next fall, directed by Miyazaki).

Book Update

I got my Amazon order: Sparks: An Urban Fairytale, BOP! (the missing stories from Box Office Poison) and The Vice Guide to Sex and Drugs and Rock and Roll. If you want to know more about Vice Magazine, go here but be warned: some of what the cover is gross, graphic, tasteless, shocking, etc… I got the Vice Guide thinking, “Oh, ha ha, it’ll be a laugh and all that.” No. One of their drug articles was basically about taking a picture of different people on various narcotics: crack, cocaine, hash, heroine, mescaline, special-k, etc. Under each picture was a description of what each “volunteer” did while they were high and the duration of the high.

As you can see to left, I’m currently reading Norwegian Wood at the moment. If you’re not reading it for this month’s Book Blog discussion, you probably should. Cuz, so far it’s a good story.

What you probably don’t see to the left are the twoawful books I just read. Every now and again I enjoy reading a trashy romance novel. I think of it like junk food- every once in a while is okay. Don’t make a habit out of it because you’ll only get fat and stupid. Besides, it’s not like I’m getting any romance in my life so I read a sordid tale get it all out of my system at once.

So I’m at the bookstore and the author of the only romance novels I actually like currently has two new paperbacks out- the first two in a trilogy. I bought both thinking what a nice break it’ll be to read these before getting into other (more serious) books. Here’s where I made my mistake: I read the first, was mildly satisfied, and then started the second. Oh man, I could feel myself getting stupider the more I read yet I couldn’t toss it aside for some reason. I’d be lying on my bed, reading, and when I got up I’d see some of my brain had leaked out of my ear and onto the pillow. Ugh, this book was killing me. Such is the danger of reading two shitty romance novels in a row. I’m just glad I finished it.

The novels raise an interesting question: Can you still be considered to be a slut if, even though you only slept with one person, you slept with him within the first 2-3 days of meeting him. I’m not talking one-night-stand, we already know the answer that. But the guy is handsome and masculine and blah blah blah and you just HAVE to sleep with him by day two. Slut, right? I mean, you’d totally have to wait longer than that to really get to know him. He could be a total killer. Whatever, these romance novels are completely unbelievable.

Games Update

I’ve been playing lots of games. I went a little crazy over Christmas, giving Barbara and Jason lots of new games (that I’d get to play as well).

Balloon Cup is without a doubt the most played game in my house right now (excluding DOA Extreme Beach Volleyball. Don’t even get me started on what it’s like to have your own personal (virtual) women to dress in bikinis and “rest” by a pool). It’s a 2-player, simple math game. There are a few flaws that have arisen during some of the games (e.g. not enough cards for the number of cubes needed to be collected) but for the most part it’s a very good game.

Next is Carcassonne: The Castle. This is a good two player game based upon the wildly popular Carcassonne. The players are playing within the walls of a castle thing time, building houses, towers, markets and paths for the heralds to walk on. This game feels a bit more claustrophobic than the original (where there are no boundaries to where you can build). The counter for keeping score is cool, as it’s all along the wall border of the game. I only played this once. I think I’d have to play again to get a better feel for it.

Thursday

Like everyone else, I know Britney Spears' ultra-short wedding was only a media stunt. Actually, it's more likely that was a Redbull and vodka induced stunt but whatever. One might say, "Your move, Christina" but she's already issued a statement.

Amy: Um, hello. I was wondering if I could place an order for a couple cases of hot sauce.

Receptionist 2: Okay, can I have your number and I’ll call you back.

Amy: Would it be better if I faxed in my order.

Receptionist 2: Yes. I think that would be best.

Amy: Okay.

Receptionist 2. Okay? Thanks for ca-

Amy: I was wondering something else, though. Um… is your web site up-to-date?

Receptionist 2: …

Amy: I was just wondering because it said your Pepper Sa-te is out-of-stock.

Receptionist 2: Yes. We are out of that.

Amy: Okay.

Receptionist 2: Okay? Have a nice-

Amy: I was wondering something else.

Receptionist 2: …

Amy: Sorry. Um… How long would it take to get my order?

Receptionist 2: I don’t know what we’ll have the Sa-te in, so you’re order will be sent out whenever we get it in.

Amy: Oh, I’m not ordering the Sa-te. I’d like a case of the Chili Garlic and… uh… Sriracha.

Receptionist 2: Your order probably wouldn’t ship today. It would ship out tomorrow.

Amy: … Oh. Okay. When do you think it would arrive at my house?

Receptionist: You choose what UPS delivery you want for shipping. On the order form next to shipping it says click here for shipping costs. You enter your zip code and the weight and put that on the order form and fax it to us.